


Should've Gone for Ice Cream

by fiendingforthesunshine



Series: The Disabled Military Veteran AU [11]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: And so does Brendon, Blind Character, Explicit Language, Gen, I mean no more than usual, Spencer has some feelings, kidnapping mention, slight stalking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-21
Updated: 2016-11-21
Packaged: 2018-09-01 06:59:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,889
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8614165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fiendingforthesunshine/pseuds/fiendingforthesunshine
Summary: Brendon is being followed, he's sure of it. *Set 1 year after Stars and Glitter*





	

**Author's Note:**

> I don't have any excuse for not posting to this universe since June, and then not posting anything since July. Well, I mean I've got the excuses but y'all probably would rather just read this story. Enjoy!

“I think I’m being followed,” Brendon mumbled, running his finger across the brail text of page, reading for class while Spencer was sat on the other side of the table, grading papers. 

It was a typical Saturday morning, Brendon and Spencer often met at the coffee shop across the street from Spencer’s school and then walked to the library where they would corral one of the meeting rooms and create their own workspace until they ran out of work to do. 

When the noise of shuffling papers stopped Brendon could imagine Spencer’s face. A skeptical look and probably a furrowed brow, Spencer is the type to have a furrowed brow. 

The papers started shuffling again, “Are you sure it’s not just your overactive sense of hearing?” 

“My hearing isn’t overactive, that’s a myth,” in fact, the doctor said Brendon was actually pretty average when it came to his hearing abilities, thank you. 

Spencer sighed, “Alright, I’ll bite. Why do you think you’re being followed?”

“Michael mentioned it first, said he’d seen the same woman walking the same route as us on the way back home three times last week.”

“Michael can barely tell his two best friends apart, how could he even notice if someone was following you guys home?” 

Brendon shot a dirty look across the table, “I’ve got more, dipshit.”

“Okay.”

“I went to the coffee shop on campus each morning this week before class and the same person with the same order was behind me each time,” Brendon leaned back in his chair and tapped the table while waiting for Spencer to answer.

“Okay… that is weird. But if someone is following you, why haven’t I seen them?” 

“Maybe you’re more dumb than Michael is,” Brendon shrugged. 

Spencer’s pen came flying across the table and hit Brendon right between the eyes, “Shit, dude! You’re supposed to give me some warning!” Brendon shrieked. 

\--

After stopping for a lunch break Spencer walked Brendon up to campus so Brendon could work on his midterm for music theory and Spencer went on his way to his own school for the once a semester parent teacher conference night. 

Brendon worked away in the dark silent practice room until his phone chirped a warning that it was almost 8pm, the time the music building closed on the weekends. 

Brendon was still so stick in the music that he barely noticed the footsteps following quietly behind him. 

Brendon stopped in the middle of the sidewalk and turned around, opening his arms in an ‘I give up’ gesture.

“Why are you following me?” 

Silence followed. Brendon had already walked past the city library where he and Spencer were this morning and the coffee shop; the sidewalk in this part of town was nearly always empty except for Brendon. 

Except for whatever creep was following him. 

Brendon tapped his cane on the ground hard, placing both hands on the top and sighed, “I’m not an idiot, I know there’s someone here and you’ve been following me since last week, what’s going on?”

Everything was silent for another minute or so while Brendon waited. 

Finally footsteps came closer to Brendon and a hand pushed his cane aside so Brendon could reach out for the offered forearm that was there, “There’s a café down the street, come with me.” 

\--

Thankfully Brendon never goes to the coffee shop at night and thankfully the barista working had no idea who he was. Brendon mumbled his order while the woman paid and he continued to ponder who he was with. 

Brendon didn’t really have a knack for voices, but he’d definitely heard this one before. 

What person would follow him around for nearly two weeks, though? 

The woman didn’t get anything for herself, just paid for Brendon’s drink in cash and pulled them towards the bar to wait for Brendon’s Americano to be called. 

“I guess I’m not surprised that you’re an espresso guy,” she sounded like she was smiling.

“Are you going to tell me who you are or will I have to keep guessing?” Brendon mumbled, glaring in her direction. 

“You’re a gifted soldier, I think you’ll figure it out.”

Brendon blinked. 

After all the press Brendon tries to keep a low profile about the whole veteran thing. Sure, it’s nice to get the perks of occasional free coffees and old guys buying a meal now and then but Brendon doesn’t typically see the benefit. 

This woman knows he’s a soldier and knows enough, maybe, to assume that Brendon enjoys bouncing off the walls from caffeine. She was smart enough to follow him for days to ensure that she had his schedule down to a T and she must not look very dangerous to the people around them (either that or everyone is clueless, which is a total possibility). 

Oh. 

“Tall Americano, Brendon!” the barista called out. 

The woman thanked the barista and picked up Brendon’s coffee, pressing it into his hand, ignoring Brendon’s wide-eyed look. 

It was Meredith. Meredith had been following Brendon for a week, maybe more. 

She led them through a web of tables to one in the back and while Brendon waited for his coffee to cool he only counted one person that walked past them.

“I may have been in a nearly comatose state the last time we spoke but you told me I’d never have to see you again, so why are you here?” 

“Hopefully no one besides you will know that I even came here,” Meredith responded shortly. 

Brendon raised his eyebrows and waited. 

“I’ve stopped working in the front lines of the negotiation business,” she paused. 

“Uh… good for you?” Brendon offered, twisting his cup around in a circle.

“I’ve been doing some work for a private firm, trying to stop kidnappings before they happen. I need your help.” 

“Here? I gotta tell you, this coffee shop has an unsecured public WiFi and cameras all over the place?” 

“There’s that humorous defense mechanism,” Meredith laughed, “I almost missed it. After you’re finished with your abomination of a coffee we’re going to your house.”

Brendon shook his head, mid sip, “No. No way. I’m not taking you back there.”

“I’ve been following you for 8 days, 12 hours and 47 minutes, you think I haven’t already seen your house?” 

Brendon sighed into his cup. 

\--

“They’re speaking Arabic but it’s a dialectic I’ve never heard, I was hoping you’d heard it somewhere before.” 

Brendon folded up his cane and placed it on the side table in the hallway. The house was empty, both his parents at the parent teacher conference with Michael. It was almost 9 o’clock now, they’d probably moved on to the ice cream parlor and if Brendon was a betting man Spencer was probably with them as a stand in for Brendon. 

The cheater. 

Brendon tried to hide his smile when he heard Meredith fumbling around for the light switch. 

“Do you have a recording? You said it was a phone call, right?” Brendon slid the back of his hand along the wall down the hall and into the kitchen, feeling along the counter to reach the other side, where the kitchen table was so he could sit down. 

“Of course I have the recording, private firms have their perks. All anyone can pick out is that the target is a child in Europe, but that can’t be all they're talking about, the phone call is 15 minutes long.”

Brendon slipped his backpack off his shoulders before sitting down, unzipping and rooting around for his headphones. He heard the clatter of Meredith’s phone on the table and he reached out to plug the headphones into the jack. 

Brendon let the message play for a while before pausing it, “You’re right, this is weird. It’s like the person wants to sound like they’re from the Gulf States, Iraq maybe? But it mixed in with a few of the western dialectics as well. There’s words that are definitely not Arabic in here though.” 

“Can you translate it?” 

Brendon glared at Meredith and put the headphones back on, “Of course I can do it.” 

Brendon tried to translate in real time, occasionally pausing to run his fingers over the screen to rewind the audio. 

“Brendon, it’s Spencer!” 

Brendon pulled the headphones off his ears and perked up. Brendon didn’t know what Meredith was doing but he heard the legs of her chair skid on the ground. Brendon stood up slowly, his hand out towards Meredith in a placating gesture, “Hey, it’s just Spencer. I’m sure all the pent up animosity has died down.” 

Spencer knocked on the door again, “You left the lights on again!” Spencer called from the front door. 

Brendon laughed and got up, sliding along through his path in the kitchen into the hallway, “I’m coming!” 

Brendon unlocked the door and opened it, letting Spencer follow him through to the kitchen table. It was fully likely that Meredith had made a break for it, leaving with only half the transcript but it was surely enough to keep the situation from escalating.

“I thought you’d be at the ice cream parlor with my parents and Michael,” Brendon said, turning his head slightly back towards Spencer. 

“Yeah, I got mine to go, I think you put some of my papers in your backpack and if I ask you to bring them to me I’ll never get them back,” Spencer jabbed. 

Brendon shrugged and continued walking, sliding past the stove, the sink and the draw that held all the sauce packets and take out menus, listening for the telltale sign of Spencer realizing all was not as it seemed. 

Spencer’s footsteps fell silent. 

There it was. 

“Brendon, why is she in your house?” The she was spat with venom. Despite the fact that Spencer knew, technically, that Meredith was the reason they were alive he was still struggling to find any common ground with the woman who was so nearly responsible for their torture. 

“Spencer, it’s fine. She needs my help,” Brendon tried to keep his voice calm. It probably wasn’t help. 

“Like hell she does!” Spencer railed, “She’s gonna need somebody's help if she doesn’t get the fuck out of here right now!” 

Brendon covered the distance of the kitchen, tripping past the island counter and correcting himself to grab Spencer’s arm. 

“Spencer, I get it! I get it more than anyone, but she’s been following me for a week and I’m still here, we’re still here.” 

Spencer groaned, but he didn’t do much to pull away from Brendon. 

“I promise. I mean it this time; I’ll never bother any of you again. I wouldn’t be here if I hadn’t tried everything,” Meredith was quiet, a tone Brendon hadn’t heard on her before. She must still be over by the table, her voice carrying across the room. 

“What does she need?” Spencer asked, small enough that Brendon doubted Meredith could hear him. 

“She needs my help translating a phone call. Someone is planning to kidnap a kid of a diplomat in Belgium.” 

The standoff continued for at least a full minute before Spencer took a breath. 

“Your parents said they’d be back in thirty minutes. She better be gone in twenty.” 

Brendon nodded, “Thanks, Spence.” 

Spencer pushed Brendon towards the table, “Help the kid.” 

Brendon sat down and got to work.


End file.
